


in theory

by torasame



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Logical Sherlock Holmes, M/M, Mycroft Being Mycroft, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, One-Sided Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes can't feel, Sherlock Holmes is Bad at Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:14:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22303972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torasame/pseuds/torasame
Summary: "It's a hard pill to swallow, Dr Watson. But you were an army doctor, correct? Surely you should be able to take it dry."
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes & John Watson, Mycroft Holmes & Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 5
Kudos: 29





	in theory

**Author's Note:**

> Felt like writing about Mycroft lately. Also, I don't think logical Sherlock gets enough characterization. I also wanted to give the big brother troupe a go haha.
> 
> Shout out to my friend Blaise for helping me out with this fic. Thank you Forko u _ u  
> Happy Prussia day

"You wanted to see me."

John grew accustomed to not turning back as an assistant shut the door behind him. He always used to think it was like locking Daniel with the lions which, to be fair, was an almost realistic metaphor for the situation.

"And this is about my dearest brother." John held his tongue against Mycroft's genetic ability to read a person.

The oldest Holmes sibling turned from his position by the large glass wall that acted like a window. It left the world outside with a blue tint and seemed to make the room cooler than it already was. John gathered his voice and offered his reply. "It's something a bit personal."

Mycroft's brow rose slightly. "Of course you of all people would be so concerned." He motioned to the chair in front of his desk, oddly reminiscent of their very first encounter. This time, John took it with minimal hesitation. Mycroft mirrored his actions a beat later.

"My brother's never been the type to carry personal matters. His transactions are objective and as much as I hate to use the word—  _ professional _ to an alarming extent." Mycroft gave him a look like mimicked that of a pensive one, " _ machine _ they all tell me. They compare him to that of a machine. Wouldn't you agree, Dr Watson?"

"No," replied John.

A slow knowing smile crept upon Mycroft's face, "which is exactly why you're here."

John took a deep breath, "I don't believe he is a machine. He's got to have some sense of feeling in him. Surely you should be able to agree with that."

"And what evidence do you have to convince me to do so?"

"He threw the American who hurt Mrs Hudson out the window."

Mycroft chuckled, "a number of times as I've heard."

_ It's real John. I've seen it.  _ "The time he broke down during the Baskerville case. The panic we were in trying to stop Moriarty from detonating suicide bombs-"  _ He's suddenly brought back to the flames. Beneath the weight of wood, gas and heat he had seen his own death. He heard a woman's voice in the closing distance but he couldn't recognize it right away. That was until he heard Sherlock. The fire trap was being pulled apart and he was met with usually devoid eyes filled with an extreme sense of concern.  _ "There's more I could say but you of all people should know."

Mycroft held his gaze. They had the same eyes, him and Sherlock. The difference being their stillness— where Sherlock's were constantly analyzing and calculating, always racing with trains of thoughts and ideas; Mycroft's were calmer but were still as sharp. His thoughts were centered and made him like standing in the dark with the knowledge of something watching his every move and he was too paralyzed by fear to do a thing about it.

"You're still wrong, Dr Watson," the gentleness of his accent seemed to drop atom bombs in the blue air around them. "Sherlock Holmes does not have feelings."

"Now, I know what you're thinking so please save it and listen carefully," John berated himself for having to shut his mouth and silence the words on his tongue. Mycroft got up and paced around the space behind his desk.

"Sherlock thinks. That's his natural reaction to everything," the older Holmes motioned to his head. "Mother always stressed the importance of thought before emotions. I believe Sherlock took that to heart— well,  _ mind _ the most."

"But that's—"

" _ Unnatural _ ? Dr Watson I believe the excessive amount of time you spend with my little brother should have taught you to broaden your perspective on ideologies. People assume  _ feeling _ comes first but that narrows down to the mentality of our society which stemmed from that of the Renaissance.  _ Self first _ ."

"It's also a quite safe to assume that the majority of the world's population believe thinking is a chore and leave it up to prodigies to think for them." Mycroft paused to gauge John's reaction. "You're probably wondering how that has anything to do with Sherlock well it's simple— Sherlock has  _ out thought  _ emotions."

John didn't know what came over him. He felt himself become overcome with laughter. Mycroft looked nothing short of bemused.

"Wait, you're serious?"

"I'm finding it hard to believe you haven't pondered on it."

His stomach had begun to sink very quickly.

"Don't get me wrong, I believe there was a time when Sherlock was in touch with his feelings very early on. He was a bit of a sensitive kid actually. But as the years passed...," John could feel the lion's claws against his skin, "feeling just became  _ irrational. _ "

"He came up with a theory of course and even I can admit it as almost indisputable. It came as quite a shock to us when the school counselor called our parents over."

"They figured it out because Sherlock broke a girl's heart. The counselor called them separately since she couldn't stop crying. Apparently, Sherlock had figured her out and presented a folder full of 'evidence' when she mustered up the courage to confess to him." Mycroft couldn't contain a laugh, "Mother was so conflicted on whether to praise him for his observations or scold him for his coldness."

John could see it. A little Sherlock meekly handing over a file to a flustered girl. The meekness broke into pure curiosity and fascination as Sherlock bombarded the girl with questions on everything he found out and how accurate it was. Part of him wanted to muster some sort of amusement from it but it all died away thinking of Sherlock—  _ young _ Sherlock,  _ child _ Sherlock explaining how irrational emotions were. No child should ever have had to come to conclusions like those.

"He said he was—"

_ "Numb. Just numb. I don't feel anything. How many times do I have to say it? I don't even see what the point to feeling is if it leaves that much room for error. If feelings are what's blinding us from a greater grasp of knowledge— if it's hindering us because people get too scared to do anything then why should it matter?" _

John shook off the hallucination. "There must be some way to fix it."

"No John, there isn't. Unless of course, you'd like to  _ debate _ with my little brother on it then by all means you are free to do so," Mycroft suddenly went incredibly still. "Even I couldn't argue against it. And even if there was a way… I doubt Sherlock would want to reverse it."

"It's a hard pill to swallow, Dr Watson. But you were an army doctor, correct? Surely you should be able to take it dry."

"But he's your younger brother," John interjected softly, "you're just going to let him be a  _ machine?" _

"I never said he was a machine. I just stated that people believe he is one but I do know for a fact that he isn't." Mycroft met him straight in the eye, "Dr Watson, my brother is very much human."

"Feeling does not define us from that of the animals; our  _ advanced thinking  _ capacity does."

John had nothing to argue against it. Mycroft audibly sighed.

"Sherlock can smile. He can laugh but he just doesn't happen to feel. His brain wires all his responses and though it has many flaws— Sherlock's mentality has given him a greater spectrum of clairvoyance than any of us."

"He's numb but he isn't depressed. But he does burn out and does have his episodes of self destruction and he does need someone to be with him. Thinking makes one very lonely without someone to listen." 

Perhaps Mycroft's usual fortress of cold wit had chipped off slightly but it was enough for John to see how he ticked. Mycroft's heart seemed to be the one beating with some sort of effort between the two brothers. John couldn't help but admit he admired him for that moment.

"He had never presented the theory to me fully. Part of me believes that he understands that the majority would attempt to follow through its philosophy without considering the consequences."

"He understands that people need to feel," John finished the thought. Mycroft acknowledged it briefly.

"Well, I think that's all of it covered," He stood up and offered his hand over the desk. "Thank you for your time, Mycroft."

Mycroft took his hand momentarily before trailing him a few meters away from the door.

"Oh and Dr Watson." John glanced over his shoulder as he reached for the doorknob.

The walls were up and although the exit was in sight— the lion finally decided to bare its teeth.

"I suggest you find a way to suppress certain feelings." Mycroft smiled, "I'm sure my brother has figured it out and unless you'd like a folder dedicated to you— I hope you remember there won't be a counselor to save you."

John resisted the instinct to hold his breath. "I don't understand what you mean."

"Well to put it simply, John. Sherlock does not feel a speck of feeling. No one is exempted from it. He's made quite a while. How long has it been? Half a year? More than that?" Mycroft made his way back towards his window. "He's made it quite a while without cracking. Though I'm not sure how much longer it will take. He's taken the time to consider your feelings after all."

"Spare yourself the pain Dr Watson." The metal was freezing in his palm. "I think Sherlock would tell you the same thing."

John left the room unscathed but was faced with a truth he couldn't fool himself to denying. He continued onward without looking back, desperately trying to overlook the sinking ache in his chest.

**Author's Note:**

> just clearing stuff up:  
> Sherlock lost the ability to feel because of his theory. Mycroft is explaining the details as to how it came to be and how Sherlock functions because of it. It is possible and the theory does exist but I don't want to explain it further for personal reasons. Like Mycroft said, it isn't that Sherlock doesn't think feelings don't exist because he does acknowledge them.
> 
> Sherlock still does care of Mycroft, Mrs Hudson, a few more selective group of people and of course, John. But he ticks because of the fact that he is still human. Sherlock just operates using his head. He understands these people care about him and he does enjoy being around them so he has the obligation to protect them.
> 
> I think his character development is often misunderstood as him suddenly becoming a bit more emotional but I don't think that's really the case. Considering his personality (and this is my opinion you're free to disagree) I believe a more accurate of looking at it is that he learnt how to consider feelings and consider people. So it's more of him going "okay I think I've hurt this person and that isn't very good. What did I do wrong and what can I do to fix it." 
> 
> This fic was basically Mycroft, who I think is a good representation of a natural predominantly thinking oriented person, explaining how an intensely thinking dominated person works to John (a feeling person). I might write about Johnlock in future works because it is still possible with this interpretation of Sherlock but for this fic— Sherlock simply doesn't see John as anything more than friends.
> 
> Thanks for reading through the fic and of course, through that ramble and I hope you enjoyed it u _ u


End file.
